


What Are You Doing With All Of My Tax Dollars?

by whaleofatime



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But nevertheless he does his best, College AU, Gen, M/M, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Where the Forces of Evil are asshole parents, au yeah august
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 10:26:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15628716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whaleofatime/pseuds/whaleofatime
Summary: Local entitled idiot asks Shiro, head of the beleaguered administration staff of a small, deeply underfunded public university.The answer, it turns out, is whatever it takes (to take care of each other).VLD College Staff AU





	What Are You Doing With All Of My Tax Dollars?

 Being the most senior member, and more importantly being the person least likely to snap and go right _the hell_ off at a haranguing parent means that Shiro is usually manning the little counter in the Educational Affairs Department (or, more honestly, the admin office of the university). He’s got patience for miles, and while he doesn’t tell the others this, being an emotionally scarred army veteran can come in really handy, what with the ability to dissociate at will and being able to keep an extremely attentive face on even while his thoughts are 3.5 light years away. 

 

 Unfortunately, today’s Concerned Father is all 50 shades of Unpleasant Dick, and instead of pleasantly floating a little out of his body, Shiro feels a migraine coming along as he tries to not grind his teeth too much. Budget cut after budget cut after budget cut; it’s been a while since they’ve had dental, and Shiro’s only got so many teeth in his head that he can afford to fix.

 

 “I understand, Mr. Sincline, that it must be really troubling for you that your son is unable to take his finals, but we most certainly sent out a reminder to both you and your son that unless his overall attendance is at 75%, he won’t be allowed to sit for the Statistical Physics paper. Professor Slav was very clear about-”

 

 He gets cut off as Mr. S goes off again, banging the counter with a fist. The whole thing used to be made of cheap sheet (shit!) metal, but Hunk had gone off one weekend and come back with a beautiful hand-crafted wooden counter that he installed before the first class even started that following Monday.

 

 It may or may not have been because Shiro had dropped to the ground in a blind panic when a student there to ask a question had stumbled and kicked the counter, everything going BANG! in too close proximity to Shiro. Either way, Mr. S’s fist thumps unsatisfyingly on the dark wood, and with minimal charity Shiro hopes he gets a nasty splinter.

 

 He gives the man another minute and a half of shouting, pretending to give a damn that this Lotor kid can’t graduate without passing the class, before attempting to interrupt once again. It’s late in the day, and while Shiro personally would prefer if his team would just go home and leave him to his fate as soon as the clock hits 4:00 PM, prior experience has shown that they all adhered to ‘No Man Left Behind’ more rigorously than one would expect from a bunch of clerks. He’s got to defuse the situation, and just get this man the hell out. “Mister Sincline, I could perhaps get you in contact with Professor Slav? There isn’t much that we can do on the administrative side without the professor’s okay, and-” 

 

 And Shiro doesn’t have any love lost for the world’s most singularly infuriating academic, so he’ll go the easy route to solving the problem today. Diverting to the faculty is a technique that usually worked, because god knows nobody respects the admin, but today is nobody’s lucky day because the man somehow gets _even more_ enraged, turning an unflattering shade of blood-bloated purple.

 

 “How dare you try to shift responsibility for this! It’s your fault that there’s such a ridiculous policy to begin with, how is attendance in any way related to performance! What is _the point_ of me paying my taxes if it goes to all you idiots-”

 

 The venom goes on for a while, and Shiro lets the man continue being superbly unpleasant while he futzes with his computer, under the excuse of checking the system for anything that might help.

 

 There’s a message from Pidge on the group Slack, under about 15 frowning emojis from Lance. Pidge is _technically_ in the IT division, but she says that the other techies spend so much time in the server room they wouldn’t even notice that she was missing from the office. She’s friends with Hunk, Shiro's teammate, and Lance, the sole Career Councillor of the campus, so she spends most of her time here with them. She’s the most dangerous person there, probably, and Shiro’s speaking as the head of a team of people who could, under other circumstances, be quite successful mass-murderers.

 

Pidge:

_Taxes my ass. Guy’s got more shady business going on than Judas. Hope he’s looking forward to the IRS coming for his ass after they get this anonymous tip-off._

 Pidge also enjoys spending time in their office because nobody has a hope of stopping her from using the university network to hack stuff and spy for Russia (according to Lance). Shiro is a man who goes by the book, usually, but as a general rule as long as somebody chips in to keep the good coffee flowing and is nice to the rest of the team, he doesn’t have a problem looking the other way over some genteel espionage.

 

 Shiro's teeth-grinding and jaw-locking habit come in handy, because it stops him from bursting into laughter and Pidge's casual crime spree-ing. Their office had a grand view of the visitor’s car park, and Lance had whistled low and loud when a shiny hunter green Jaguar had come tearing in. Pidge had run the plates before Mr. Sincline had even reached the office, and now she’s exacting revenge before the man’s even finished his tirade.

 

 Shiro nods distractedly when the screaming man has to take a break to answer a phone call, storming out but staying close enough to the office that they could hear him shouting at his assistant about ??? Lord only knows what. Shiro hears Lance, Hunk, and Pidge whispering behind him, but a new message on Slack from Keith distracts him.

 

 Ah, Keith. Their second-most-senior staff member, the man who steps up and in when Shiro’s off on sick days. Keith used to be the last person called to deal with a problematic guest, even after Pidge, because of his inability and adamant determination to avoid being diplomatic to bastards. Keith’s really come into his own though, ever since Shiro had to take 6 straight months of leave when a little trial with a new prosthesis went straight to hell. Keith’s a lot calmer, and better at handling people, filled to the brim with a kind of quiet confidence that inspires people to believe that This Man Can Solve My Problems. 

 

 Keith also unfortinately still has a protective streak the size of South America when it comes to Shiro, and even for all that he's grown and matured, can be relied upon to throw down with absolutely anyone that is mean to Shiro. Of course he bristles when people are shitty to Hunk, Lance, and Pidge too, and he would fight God himself for them, probably, but when it’s Shiro in the hot seat, Keith is 100% shoot first deal with real life consequences after (aka not even God would stand a chance).

 

 This is why there is a group Slack with Keith, and a group Slack without. As soon as Lance had spotted the Jaguar and (rightly) assessed that they were in for a rough one, Hunk had shot to his feet and handed Keith a huge stack of folders and sent him off to the Dean’s office, ostensibly to talk about finances. Lance had then sent off a message to Allura; it’s Code White, aka Distract Keith While Shiro Deals With A Dick. They’re beautifully coordinated; Keith’s safely ensconced in Allura’s office before Mr. Sincline’s shadow even darkened their door. 

 

It’s worked in the past, but, damn, it won’t work now. 

 

Keith:

_Allura forgot that she had a conference call with Coran coming up, so she said to say sorry but she’ll need to have me come back with the docs again. On my way back._

 

 Shiro curses, and it’s vehement enough that Lance catches it. Lance has weirdly sharp eyes and ears; he says it makes him a great listener. Personally, Shiro thinks they’re skills honed over years of making sure that smaller siblings didn’t accidentally kill themselves in exciting and unusual ways, but whatever the reason, Lance does have a tendency to hear things not meant to be heard.

 

 “You all right over there, boss man? I’m in pretty good condition to ignore the hell outta some rich snob with a dumbass kid, so I can swap in for you if you want.” 

 

 Lance does use his gifts for good sometimes, and it makes Shiro smile as he swivels in his chair to face them. “Thanks, but we’ve got bigger problems than a man who actually thinks that his kid would have aced Slav’s hell course without going to classes. Allura’s got a call, and Keith’s already heading back. We’ve got, oh, maybe a minute before things get _really_ rough.”

 

 They don’t, in fact, have a minute. Shiro will scold himself later for forgetting Keith’s absurdly fast walking pace. The man is all vicious energy contained, and despite being smaller than Shiro is, Keith somehow gives a very strong impression of being a barely-controlled freight train.

 

 They don’t have a chance to plan anything properly either; the door to their office slams open again, knob digging a chunk out of the plaster of the wall, and it’s Mister Sincline, here to continue spreading the misery with a shovel. Shiro restrains a sigh, and drags on his well-worn customer-service smile as the man gets pumped up to be a massive cock again.

 

 “You know what, I’m done talking to you,” Mr. S. goes, voice booming. “I pay my taxes and the ridiculous tuition fees, I donate generously to this school, and I refuse to be  _assisted_ by an incompetent cripple.”

 

 Shiro feels half his smile slip right off his face, and Hunk, Lance and Pidge are suddenly terrifyingly, deathly quiet behind him. Which is bad enough, because between the 3 of them they could take on a mid-sized army just on spite and vehemence alone.

 

 Oh, no. Because karma’s got it’s kiss for him, surely, Keith appears in the doorway just in time to hear Mr. Sincline say…..what he said.

 

_Oh, no_ , thinks Shiro a little faintly. It’s going to be a bloodbath, and the cost of getting all the stains out of the carpeting is going to come straight from his pocket.

 

 “Well? Where’s your manager?” Mister Sincline carries on, completely oblivious to his impending meet-up with death. Keith has literally, _literally_ rolled up his sleeves as he comes up behind the hulking, imposing man, and Keith won’t attack his back because Keith’s got quite the moral code, but as soon as Mr. S. turns, Lord help us, the man will be losing some teeth and the straightness of his nose.

 

 Shiro’s frozen in inaction, mostly because he’s made his peace with how terribly everything is about to go. Happily, the rest of the team are less resigned with Keith committing murder. There’s a short burst of clacking as Pidge types something on her computer, and suddenly the fire alarms are _blaring_. The split second of surprise is all Hunk needs; he’s sidled to the door as soon as he spotted Keith, and when Pidge’s distraction goes off he rushes Keith and bodily picks him up, hauling him away from the almost crime scene.

 

 Lance, meanwhile, is by the window, and while Mr. S. is distracted with shouting at the klaxons, he throws the smallest, crappiest stapler they have across most of the carpark, metal and plastic zipping through the air to neatly clip the Jaguar’s wing mirror. Now the car alarm joins the fire alarm to make a truly demonic din, and Shiro’s doing breathing exercises to stop the noise from getting to him (too much).

 

 It’s barely a moment later before Pidge turns off the fire bell, and Mr. S. notices that his fancy, expensive car is screaming blue murder. Shouting abuse at everything and everyone in general, the man sweeps out of the room to run for his Jag, not even sparing a glance at Hunk doing his level best to keep Keith pinned to the floor and not up and about and killing the rudest man on Earth.

 

 There’s a moment of relative peace, when Mr. S. gets close enough to his car to shut the alarm, and it’s breathing space for the admin staff and their collective blood lust. Keith is released as soon as they feel that he’s more likely to check on Shiro than leap out a window to attack a man, and Hunk’s making them all a fortifying cup of coffee after locking the office door with a decisive  _click_ the very moment the clock strikes 4. 

 

 “I’m preeeetty sure I can nail him in the back of the head with a pencil from this distance,” Lance says, breaking a fairly tense silence. “Hell, I could probably yell his name and then send a shoe straight to his face when he turns around, but that might make it too obvious that we have it out for him.”

 

 “We sure do,” Pidge replies, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I just reported all his credit cards as stolen, and I’m turning off his auto-debit payment on his mortgage and utilities. Wow, what a screaming dick.”

 

 “Guys, maybe you’re taking this a little too far?” Hunk’s the voice of reason and the bearer of rich, delicious coffee. He even cracked out the caramel sauce for Shiro’s, and while Shiro still has his heart in his mouth from all the commotion, it feels swollen to 3 times its usual size with all the affection.

 

 “Not far enough,” and yeah, that’s Keith, standing by Shiro’s chair with a firm grip on his shoulder, all angry tension. “Who was that man, and where does he live?”

 

 “Keith!” Shiro admonishes, but he can’t quite make himself stop smiling. Being a glorified clerk isn’t really what he saw himself doing when he joined the Air Force so very many years ago, but in all fairness, most clerks probably don’t have colleague-friends so willing to cheerfully commit crimes for their sake. “It’s fine, it’s not the first time it’s happened.”

 

 “I sure can make sure that it’s the last time that dude does it,” Keith mutters venomously, but the physical contact and seeing Shiro recovering from his distress is doing wonders to calm Keith down. “What did I tell you about leaving the problem customers to me? Or at least Pidge, she’s pretty cool with other people’s suffering.”

 

 Hunk, Pidge, and Lance all nod in agreement, and Shiro’s not entirely sure how to feel about that. Instead, he tilts his head back and manfully tries not to pout at Keith. “Keith, how many times are you going to try and rescue me from jerks acting like jerks?”

 

 Smiling so warmly he’s completely unrecognisable as the man that was willing to bludgeon another man to death with July’s financial statements, Keith tightens his grip on Shiro’s shoulder.

 

 “As many time as it takes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Keith's entire state of being here is inspired by but totally unrelated to misterpipsis' [work of art](https://misterpipsis.tumblr.com/post/175185528601/watch-out-paladins-too-many-feels-in-this). 
> 
> The prompt was College, and this is what we have because of my deep and abiding respect for the people staffing the admin desk at uni.
> 
> For more fun times, shout out (to me) [here](https://cetaceans-pls.tumblr.com/post/176558490294/what-are-you-doing-with-all-of-my-tax-dollars)


End file.
